


Heaven Is Just Hell With More Rules

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angel Castiel, Angst, Demon Dean, Demon!Dean, Happy ending though, M/M, Mark of Cain, Smut, some trueform stuff woo!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: “Dean,” a voice said, soft, disbelieving.He turned to see Castiel standing there. He could see more than just thevesselnow, with his black eyes. He saw holy and broken. He saw bright white light, and every crack through which it didn’t shine. He saw thousands of faces turned towards him, not all human, not all instantly recognizable as faces, but still… all of them focused onhim.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135
Collections: FicFacer$ 2020





	Heaven Is Just Hell With More Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Todomecarga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todomecarga/gifts).



> Thank you to todomecarga for the prompt! I hope you like it!!!

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Dean gasped, hands shaking yet unable to drop that cursed, toothed knife.

The scene before him was a bloodbath, and the black haze of his eyes had cleared just long enough for him to count, to memorize, to feel his stomach turn. Humans. Innocent people, all mangled and piled and dead and _all his fault._

“Dean,” a voice said, soft, disbelieving.

He turned to see Castiel standing there. He could see more than just the _vessel_ now, with his black eyes. He saw holy and broken. He saw bright white light, and every crack through which it didn’t shine. He saw thousands of faces turned towards him, not all human, not all instantly recognizable as _faces,_ but still… all of them focused on _him._

Castiel saw him there, his _human,_ or, he was once. Now there was a creature crouching on the floor before him, horns twisted and gnarled, busting up and out of human skull, half-formed faces covering every inch of skin.

“I’m here,” said at least two of the faces of Castiel, crouching down to stare into Dean’s wild eyes. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“It’s not _okay,”_ Dean choked out, smoke falling from his mouth like blood, like bile. “I _killed_ them!”

Castiel’s fingers danced over the mark on Dean’s arm. “This is what killed them. You are merely the vessel.”

A half-formed face cracked open a malformed eye, to stare into faces holier than Heaven could ever hope to be.

Castiel’s hand caressed Dean’s cheek, and Dean bowed his head and cried.

“Come,” Cas whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean looked down through blurry eyes to the red shirt which didn’t used to be red, to the jeans which weren’t always this dark. He saw the faces on his arms in passing, like they were in one eye and not the other. “Fix me,” he begged.

“I can’t,” Castiel told him softly. “But we can go to the lake together.”

And there was a mental image of a lake, of Castiel disappearing beneath the waters, of a drenched trench coat.

“I won’t leave this time,” Cas promised, pulling Dean to his feet.

Dean did not stray far from Castiel. His feet stepped directly where Castiel stepped, he pushed aside the same branches Castiel pushed aside. Though Castiel walked slowly and calmly, leading, Dean walked as though he was being led to the noose.

When they arrived at the lake, trees surrounding, Castiel shrugged off his trench coat. Dean watched it fall, and half his faces looked half in agony.

Castiel watched him, watched all of him, and shook his head, coming to stand so close to him that Dean could feel the electricity in his bones.

With a very human glance up through eyelashes, Castiel reached out and undid one of Dean’s shirt buttons.

It was as if everything snapped back for Dean, and his hands caught Cas’s. “What…?”

“We are both going in, and you are being uncooperative,” Castiel said plainly, undoing a few more buttons. If he noticed a subtle shift towards _human_ in Dean’s appearance, he pretended not to.

“I can strip myself, buddy,” Dean said shakily.

Cas shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him and gestured. “Then, please do.” He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it aside, tie quickly following.

Dean swallowed harshly, all thoughts and memories of the mark suddenly just… _gone._ “This isn’t… weird?”

Castiel shook his head and smiled softly. “No,” he assured Dean, resting his bare hand against Dean’s wet cheek.

Dean looked so… small, so desperate. Castiel traced the lines of his face reverently.

“Cas,” Dean warned, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t know how yet,” he began, holding Dean’s face in both hands, “but we will fix you. I promise that.” He made the mistake of looking into those green eyes, and they held him, wide and worried and trusting and very very close.

There were hands resting gently on Castiel’s waist, and there was breath flowing softly across parted lips. Their eyes did not waver as Dean’s hands shakily moved to Castiel’s belt, unlatching it and pulling it slowly out of its loops. Castiel pushed Dean’s shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground behind them.

Dean undid Cas’s shirt buttons, one by one, never looking away from that searching blue.

When his thumbs rested on the clasp of Castiel’s pants, his fingers dipped just under and pulled him imperceptibly closer, until their noses touched, until Castiel’s lips were parted and his eyes were closed and he was _waiting._

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, removing his hands like they were burning Castiel. “Fuck I’m— I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have— You’re an angel and I— I’m a demon and—“

“And what?” Castiel whispered, words tripping over Dean’s lips, begging him to just lean forward and _taste._

“I’m— I mean, L— Lu—“ he couldn’t make his mouth say the word, couldn’t make his lips admit what they wanted.

“Lust?” Castiel tried for him.

“You’re an angel,” Dean repeated quietly, as if berating himself.

“Angels feel it too, Dean,” Cas promised, fingers hooking into Dean’s belt loops, pulling chest and stomach together.

“I’m not gonna make you _sin,_ Cas,” Dean said, not sure where to put his hands, not sure where there was that they wouldn’t ultimately find Cas again.

But Castiel laughed, a genuine laugh, loud and long, one hand going to his face. “Oh, oh Dean. _Dean._ I have been doing nothing but sinning for you since I met you.” He moved one hand to Dean’s hair, pulling their foreheads together. “I have rebelled against Heaven, I have killed my siblings, I have all but denounced my Father in preference of you. I have committed all these holy atrocities, but the markedly _human_ one is the one you’re concerned about.”

“I—“

“Beyond that…” There was amusement in Castiel’s eyes, almost a _challenge._ “You really think you have the power to break _me?_ I pulled you out of Hell once, Dean. I can do it again.”

Dean’s hands hovered over Castiel’s hips, unsure.

“Do you want my permission?” Castiel asked, running one hand over Dean’s bare chest. “You have it. Kiss me.”

His eyes flicked black, green, black. “Cas,” he begged.

Cas felt Dean’s soul writhing in its marked cage and held his face tight, pulling him in and kissing him with a desperation he didn’t know he was capable of. Where lips met lips, skin was just skin, and there were only two faces, two _humans._ They gasped as they pulled away, Dean’s hands going to his head, Castiel’s going to his chest.

“What—“

“A counterweight,” Cas gasped out as he felt his wings unfurl from wherever they had gone. “We cancel each other out.”

“Dammit,” Dean whispered, feeling horns solid and yet intangible again in his hands. “Fuck, Cas, kiss me again.”

The feeling of being human wasn’t alien to Cas, but it was unnerving, the way his lips tingled against Dean’s, the way his clothes felt sliding off his body. Dean’s hands wasted no time in mapping the curves on Cas’s body, all worry gone. Because this was not an angel and a demon, this was two humans, deep in the woods, and that was something Dean could understand. There was no angry hum in the back of his mind, no burning on his arm. There was just the smooth feel of Castiel’s skin as he removed every layer of clothing separating them.

Castiel couldn’t get over the way jeans felt against his hands, the coolness of the button, the jaggedness of the zipper. He pushed them off Dean’s hips, revealing softer clothes, which he also pushed off. He was not after the many feelings of fabric. He was after the feeling of warm skin, and everything he had seen it capable of.

Lips gave way to tongue, and it was closer to Heaven than Castiel had ever felt as an angel. They had started moving, though neither could say when, and Dean’s back was against a tree, and Castiel was pressed up against him, hands traveling down sides.

Dean desperately tried to memorize the taste as he kissed Castiel. It wasn’t what he had initially expected. It wasn’t sweet or soft or even _kind,_ if he was honest. Castiel tasted like war, like deathly heat and gunpowder and metal. He was reminded jarringly that this wasn’t just _any_ angel, this was a _commander,_ a _warrior._ It was obvious in the harshness of his hands as they traveled to thighs, pulling them up and wrapping them around him.

Dean, for his part, tasted a lot less like whiskey and a lot more like sugar than Castiel had been expecting. Castiel drowned in the taste, in the feeling of being surrounded and wanted. “I love you,” tripped from his lips without him noticing, diving directly back into glorious mouth.

“I love you, too,” Dean mumbled, an automatic reflex, though still entirely true. His heels pushed against Castiel’s back, forcing him closer, pushing them together, hard. “We gonna get this show on the road or…?” he joked breathlessly, grinding against Castiel to the best of his ability.

Castiel laughed softly against his mouth. “That sounds like the setup to a joke,” he breathed, hands trailing to ass.

Dean shook his head, smiling. “If an angel and a demon fuck in the woods and no one’s around to see them, will anyone ever know?”

Castiel kissed him forcefully, pushing inside with no preamble, a slow, rising burn. Dean made some sound in his mouth, hands gripping tightly at Cas’s shoulders. “Let’s find out,” Cas all but growled.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed as Cas bottomed out, mouth falling open and head hitting the tree behind him. His eyes were closed and his brow drawn up, world narrowed to just Castiel, just this being before him who had given everything for him, and now gave this.

Castiel began moving, slowly, too slowly, and Dean used his heels as leverage to set a better pace.

Cas watched in fascination as Dean’s eyes flickered back and forth between black and green, his hands leaving Cas’s shoulders and going to grab the tree above his head.

“Is this okay?” Cas asked, pleasure coiling tightly in his stomach, a feeling he was very unused to.

Dean could only nod, chest heaving, back arching.

Castiel kissed his neck, his chest, anything and everything he could reach as his stomach turned to fire, or at least felt like it did. His hand grasped desperately at Dean’s shoulder which, though it no longer held his mark, had always felt like _his._

Dean was letting out small sounds, sounds that Cas wasn’t sure he had ever known humans could make, sounds that seemed to ring out across space and time. Dean fumbled for Castiel’s free hand and dragged it down to his dick, pleading.

And what could Castiel do but oblige?

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Dean stammered, legs shaking where they gripped tight to Castiel.

“The feeling is— mutual,” Cas managed, lips parted against Dean’s throat.

Dean dragged him up for a kiss deep and dark and desperate, moans hiding in the back of his throat as he came, trembling and shaking and _human._

And Castiel had never been able to hold out against the charms of Dean Winchester, so he followed suit, grasping at everything he could reach as his hips stuttered and finally stopped.

They breathed each other’s air, eyes closed, silence all around them. Horns and halo tangled where their lips didn’t meet.

“Well,” Cas finally gasped out, “it’s not a— a _cure,_ per se but I— I think that helped.”

Dean nodded, slowly dropping his legs to the ground. “I— I’ve always loved you,” he admitted softly.

Cas smiled at him, at the green eyes shining his way. “I know,” he whispered back, winking.

Dean rolled his eyes fondly and pushed his face away. “Han Solo me again and see what happens,” he snarked.

Cas laughed quietly. “I have always loved you as well, Dean. I didn’t think that was up for debate.”

A tinny guitar sound rang out across the silent woods, and they both glanced to where they had left their clothes.

“That’s Sam,” Dean said, recognizing the ringtone. “He… won’t quit trying to call me.”

“Perhaps you should answer.”

Dean sighed, something deep and regretful. “Cas, this…” he gestured to his arm, “this _thing_ is gonna make me kill him if I see him again. I know it will.”

Castiel linked his fingers through Dean’s. “That’s why you have me. I’ll keep you from doing anything… _bad.”_

Dean snorted. “Oh yeah, that’ll be rich. I’ll start to get violent, and you’ll just swoop in and kiss me and fix it. Sam’ll _literally_ die then. He’ll see you kiss me and that’ll be that. He’ll just drop dead.”

“Seems a fair way to go. I doubt he’d mind.”

Dean shook his head and looked back to his phone. “I’m… scared,” he admitted, memories of a room of corpses coming back to his head. “I know he’s just trying to help but I don’t— I don’t know that I deserve to be saved.”

“You do,” Castiel said resolutely. “But even if you didn’t, his actions are not your decisions to make. He’s going to find a way to cure you of the mark. He _is_ Sam Winchester, after all.”

Dean looked at the ground, frowning as the ringing stopped. “And what if I should just let him go?”

“How do you mean?”

“Let him go find a life for himself, outside of me. I… I dragged him into this mess when I went to Stanford to find him. Maybe he just… needs an out.”

“As long as there is something he can do to help someone, he will be happy. That’s what Sam thrives off of. I believe that is why he wanted to be a lawyer in the first place.” Castiel walked over to their clothes and picked up the phone, and Dean shamelessly admired his ass. Cas held the phone out to Dean. “Call your brother. It’ll be okay.”

He sighed. “Yeah, fine. But can we… clean up first? I don’t really want to talk on the phone naked and uh…” he looked down at himself, _“grimy.”_

Castiel rolled his eyes and sat the phone back down, grabbing Dean’s hands and leading them to the water. The lake was warm, and Dean dove under and back up, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Dean asked, scrubbing at his stomach.

“Of course,” Castiel responded, doing the same.

“When we were in Purgatory, I dreamed of this sometimes.”

“Oh, you dreamt that you were a demon and I was an angel and we had intercourse in the woods which made us virtually human for as long as we kissed? Perhaps _you_ are the true prophet.”

Dean splashed him. “Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Castiel hid his smile. “Yes well, for the sake of sharing secrets…” he side-eyed Dean, “I might have also thought of this once or twice.”

Dean’s grin had mischief in it. “When you beat me up in that alley, was that one of the times?”

Cas sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Perhaps there was a… _smidge_ of sexual frustration in there, sure. Though I did not know it at the time.”

“I knew it.” Dean smirked, washing the dried blood off his arms.

“You’re not a very subtle man, you know.”

Dean shrugged, scrubbing at the mark. “This doesn’t really hurt right now,” he noted absently.

Castiel nodded. “I doubt it will stay that way, but that is good to know. When the bloodlust becomes too much…” he shrugged. “Just come and fuck me, I guess.”

Dean’s cheeks were ten degrees past red. “Alright, filing you saying ‘fuck’ away for later.”

“Truly, your libido knows no bounds.”

He snorted, pulling Castiel close. “It seems to _me_ that demons and angels don’t really have a refractory period,” he purred, kissing Castiel’s jaw, his throat.

Cas wriggled out of his arms. “Call your brother first. Then perhaps we can try it the other way around.”

Dean paused for a moment, then proceeded to clean himself as fast as he could, stumbling out of the lake and over to his phone.

He hesitated there, unsure, before looking back at Castiel. His wet hair was plastered to his head, and he was admiring a butterfly that had landed on his elbow. In fact, it looked like he was conversing with it.

If Dean squinted, he could see every facet of Castiel, stretching up into the sky, thousands of faces and yet all focused on this one, small butterfly.

That was Cas, Dean thought. So in love with Earth and everything that inhabited it. He was beautiful, inside and out, even with the cracks Dean could see, the cracks that had showed he had been broken again and again, and yet still found wonder in something as small as a winged insect.

If Castiel could face down Heaven, his family, the _world_ for Dean, then Dean could do this one thing.

For Castiel.

He dialed a familiar number, holding his breath as it rang.

Sam picked up almost immediately.

“Dean,” he breathed, relief evident in his voice.

“Hey, Sammy.”


End file.
